Silver Tongue, Rusted Heart

You wore holy like a leather jacket,

cigarette smile, promises static—

"Baby, you’re safe," you whispered slow,

a lullaby lined with vertigo.

I fell for the stars in your motel eyes,

the way liars laugh and angels lie,

you tasted like risk and red cherry wine—

drunk on your words, I made them mine.

But love turns cruel when it’s fully fed,

you turned to stone once I bled red.

Your hands grew cold, your voice went thin,

the sweet facade wore paper skin.

Now you're just smoke in a diner booth,

half a man, and less than truth.

You traded poetry for silence sharp—

a boy with a lighter and no spark.

Oh, darling chameleon, dressed in regret,

you gave me a dream I won’t forget.

But roses wilt where lies begin—

you changed the script once I bought in.

So toast to the game you love to play,

I hope the mirror loves you someday.

But I’ve danced through flames and learned this fact:

a man who morphs won’t ever come back.